Dr Milne was allowed a clear day’s fishing the next day, my plan being to spring an ankle on him the day after, but in the end a better excuse presented itself. I had slipped off on the second evening to The Perils of Pauline at the cinema in Perth and, while there, the thought struck me that I might come down with a flea. It should be noted that between my artsy crafty childhood and my adulthood in a houseful of dogs, I have been dealing with fleas quite expertly from a young age, but Dr Milne was not to know that and I thought something slightly disreputable and undignified might bring us closer together than an ankle, no matter how I shoved it in his face and howled.
Accordingly I sent for him straight after breakfast and was huddled in a chair in my sitting room looking sheepish when he was admitted.
‘Have you had coffee, Dr Milne?’ I asked, pouring a cup out before he had time to answer. ‘You’ll think this is a fearful cheek, I’m sure, but I wondered if I could have a professional word?’ He looked crestfallen and answered:
‘Yes, of course my dear Mrs Gilver, I never come away without my bag, but you should have said when you wrote.’
‘Oh no,’ I protested. ‘This has just come up. Sheer opportunism since you’re here anyway.’ So he had been a little suspicious about the summons, then. I should have to tread lightly. ‘The thing is,’ I said, and I found that I was blushing, which added a great deal in the way of authenticity, ‘the thing is, I think I’ve got a flea.’ I clapped my hand over my mouth as though trying to disguise either shock or nervous giggles and waited for him to respond with the expected professional gravity. To his credit, however, he threw back his large head and roared with laughter, at which I started to giggle for real and the ice was well and truly broken.
‘I can’t help you with that, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Except to pass on a good tip for killing the little devils. I’m always getting them, visiting in the village. There’s one family in particular…’ He shuddered. ‘Stand in an empty bath, take off all of your clothes slowly, item by item, and drop them into a basin of water set beside you. If the flea is in the clothes it will swim to the top. If not then it must be on you or on the bath, where you can see it. You find it, pinch it between your fingers – tight, mind – and put it in the water to drown. Don’t take the clothes out of the basin until you’ve seen it belly up. And some calamine lotion for the bites,’ he finished, reaching into his bag. I was scratching for real by now, always having been very suggestible on the topic of fleas and ticks.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said and settled back to chat. ‘Well then, happier circumstances than last time.’ I was glad to see that he seemed ready to sit and talk, fleas or no.
‘I see there’s to be a service in Edinburgh,’ he said.
‘Are you going?’ I asked. ‘I know the Duffys had not had the cottage long, poor things, but did you get a chance to get to know Cara at all?’ My stomach gave a little lurch as he shook his head.
‘I never met the poor lass,’ he said. ‘I knew her father to pass the time of day. Met him when he came down to look at the cottage. It must have seemed such a charming idea. A little wooden cottage by the sea for the ladies.’
‘Dreadful, dreadful,’ I said vaguely, trying to think as fast as I could what to say next. ‘I should think the last thing they’ll want to do is rebuild on the site, don’t you? So, I suppose from the point of view of the village it would be best if they just sold the land to someone else.’ Dr Milne looked puzzled at the turn the conversation was taking, and I hurried on. ‘I mean how awful for the local people simply to have that great big blackened hole sitting there to remind them.’ Dr Milne nodded and took up the theme.
‘Aye, right enough,’ he said. ‘I know old Mrs Marshall up the lane is in a terrible state about it all.’ My stomach revolved once more. Surely my ally had not spoken of things she should not. His next words calmed me.
‘She can’t stand to go down to the shore for kindling I heard, and that was her daily jaunt before now. She’s a wonderful old woman, one of the old kind.’ I remembered in good time that I could not be expected to know who this Mrs Marshall was, in fact had better not know in case he wondered how, but I saw an avenue.
‘Is that the Mrs Marshall who went in to clean for the Duffys?’
‘Her mother-in-law,’ said Dr Milne.
‘I see,’ I said. ‘I do like the way these country places have their settled families, don’t you? Hugh’s tenants on the home farm have been here longer than the Gilvers. I say, Dr Milne, I’ve just had the most – well, I hope the most fanciful idea. They never did get an explanation of how the fire started, did they?’ It was hard work to remember just how little I was supposed to know and how little concerned I should reasonably appear to be. ‘A thought just occurred to me. The poor little servant girl. You know, the one who died? She wasn’t local, was she? It couldn’t have been her family taking some kind of revenge, or…’ Dr Milne looked flabbergasted.
‘Where do you get an idea like that?’ he said.
‘The cinema, I suppose,’ I said, sheepish again. ‘Along with the flea.’ I hoped he would say more without having to be prompted again, as I wanted to save all the patience he had left for the outrageous suggestion I might have to make next.
‘No, that wee lass had come down with them from Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘I had never set eyes on her before in my life.’ I took this steadily, betraying no emotion. ‘It would be as like a Gatehouse girl to get herself into that kind of trouble right enough, but not to take such a way out of it. Most often what happens is someone leans hard on the boy and there’s a wedding and an “early blessing”. No, that wouldn’t be the way of it at all.’ He mused now, as though talking to himself. ‘It was a shame, right enough. A bonny wee thing, damned shame.’
‘Dreadful,’ I said again in a murmur which I hoped would not interrupt the flow.
‘And it hit Mrs Duffy hard,’ he went on. ‘I thought at the time it had hit her harder than she was happy to show. No weeping and wailing, mind, but she was a terrible colour and I was worried. I thought to myself, that for all she was stiff – if you’ll pardon me saying so – she had a heart in her. Yes, a wee kitchen maid she had probably not seen above a dozen times and you would think it was her own -’ He broke off, confused at where his meandering had taken him, and fell to nodding sorrowfully. I lapsed into a silence preparatory to my next move. After a couple of agonizing minutes had ticked by on the clock, I began to speak with a little laugh.
‘If we’d had this conversation yesterday,’ I said, ‘I should have been able to account for the dream I had last night. The worst nightmare I’ve ever had since I was a child. In fact -’ I gave him a twisted smile, and my look of trepidation was quite genuine – I did not know if what I was about to say was a masterstroke of subtly entwined truth and fancy or my biggest blunder yet. ‘In fact, I wonder if I wanted to tell you about it – “subconsciously” as they say. Do they still say that? – and that’s why I didn’t even think of dealing with the flea by myself.’